


i'm not in love.

by teethrotter



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Gay Male Character, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon, takahashi is bisexual and painfully clueless, this is a valentine's day fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22779784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teethrotter/pseuds/teethrotter
Summary: Reflections, from one man to another.
Relationships: Shimura Suguru/Takahashi Eiichi, past Hatori Arayoshi/Shimura Suguru
Kudos: 1





	i'm not in love.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jockohomo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jockohomo/gifts).



> this is a dual valentine's day / birthday fic for my boyfriend :) it's quite void of on-screen romance, but the implications are there. it takes place in an au where takahashi and shimura both survive and end up together. eventually.
> 
> the only content warnings i can conjure up for this one are mentions of sex and of a dead person, but it's very tame.

“When did you know?”

Shimura glances up from where he had been preparing coffee. His features are marginally fogged with sleep, as he hadn’t yet partaken in his first cup. Pinches of sugar and milk are portioned automatically into the smaller mug, segmented with a geometry of pastels.

“When did I know what, exactly?”

His tone is malleable, gently ragged at the edges. Takahashi isn’t facing him, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as his eyes swivel to fix firmly on the window parallel to the dining table. He appears far more alert than his host.

“When… That you were gay.”

The clarification seems to properly rouse Shimura for the first time that morning. Soft with sleep, he is unable to stop himself from chuckling.

“I’m sorry, was that an offensive question? You don’t have to answer,” Takahashi all but sputters in response, flushing up to his ears in the early sunlight.

Shimura distractedly waves a hand in dismissal, pouring the remainder of the coffee into his larger mug. He moves to seat himself across from the other man.

Sliding the more colorful cup over to his guest, he sighs quietly, sipping at the contents of his own. His eyes rise to meet Takahashi’s gaze.

“I’m not sure of where to even begin. So many different parts tend to tie in together with these sorts of things. I could give you a condensed or a long version, I guess. You might have to wait until I’ve had some coffee if you want the full… story.”

Takahashi pauses to mull over his options, seemingly embarrassed for one reason or another. His fingers fidget anxiously over the table’s surface.

Finally, he decides, “I can wait.”

Shimura nods, brown eyes gleaming faintly in curiosity, but he does not press for any additional explanation. The silence that ensues as he methodically downs the remainder of his coffee is marginally strained, but only because Takahashi is visibly anxious, features consistently flushed and pinched. His attention is easily directed just about anywhere but to his host.

Shimura can infer the reasoning behind such an abrupt and unconventional inquiry, especially in the early hours of the day. For some time now, he had been under the assumption that Takahashi was currently experiencing some sort of midlife crisis, but regarding his personal sexuality. Whether or not he was actually questioning was, frankly, none of Shimura’s concern, so he had never breached the topic out of respect for his privacy. If this was Takahashi’s fashion of ‘asking for help’, then he was happy to provide what he could.

“Well… For me, at least, there was never a specific moment where I suddenly realized. I think a lot of people can give you a person or a situation from when they were a child that made it hit them, but I can’t. It was… always something that I just _knew_. If that makes any sense.”

Takahashi nods, perhaps too emphatically, in an attempt to be totally accommodating. His gaze finally focuses on the other man’s face, both hands shifting to tuck absently beneath his chin. His undivided attention touches Shimura in a manner that is decidedly unintentional on his end, but Shimura only notes such to himself.

“Once I started school, I was definitely quieter about it. That’s when I found out that men wanting to date other men wasn’t normal. Well, at least by a grade schooler’s standards,” Shimura was quick to clarify, inevitably somewhat embarrassed by his own lack of coordination and general awkwardness.

Takahashi hurriedly shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I understand what you’re trying to say. I swear I’m not _that_ dumb.”

His manner makes it clear that he is wholly jovial, but Shimura is responding based on reflex before he can stop himself.

“You’re not stupid at all. Um… Yeah. Hopefully, you can guess what I’m trying to say if it sounds kind of off. I’m not great at just talking like this. You already know that.”

Takahashi begins to sip at the contents of his mug, more than sufficiently cool by now. “It’s fine. I’m the one who asked. I’m not expecting some grand speech, you know? I’d like it more if you were just totally candid. Which I think you’re being. So, I really appreciate it already.”

Shimura struggles to throttle the lump rising in his throat at such basic affection. He must be even more sensitive and nervous than usual, given the current topic of discussion.

He coughs self-consciously. “Yes. Yes, of course. Seriously, this is the absolute least I can do. There’s nothing to be appreciative of. Anyway… I think I got my first real boyfriend some time around the end of high school. We didn’t last long. I had one or two others in college, but they didn’t last either, obviously. None of them were bad people. We just had different ambitions, personalities… I’m sure you know how that goes. Your wife can’t have been your first girlfriend?”

“God, no.” Takahashi grimaces. “Not to say that I was ever rolling in pussy, or anything, either. But Hitomi was definitely not my first real relationship. I actually dated around more in high school than I did in college. This isn’t about me, though.”

Shimura hums in acknowledgement, glancing up to momentarily meet Takahashi’s eyes. “Right. Uh… After college, I don’t think I dated. At all. I’d appreciate how some men looked in passing, but never enough to initiate a conversation or anything like that. Then, I started working at Yotsuba.”

The man’s face hastily begins to burn with humiliation. “At the beginning… Ooi and I had a brief fling. Don’t misunderstand. Dating was never even on the table. Just… I don’t even know what he thought he would get out of it, to be honest. I never asked. I was satisfied with occasionally having sex and nothing more. That was… a strange time for both of us, I think.”

Takahashi blinks owlishly in bewilderment. “Oh. You never told me about that one. Did he start it, or did you?”

“He did. It lasted a few months, maybe? Whatever _it_ was. This is embarrassing. I’m sorry I even told you about it.”

Shimura briefly drops his face into his hands, ears visibly alight. Takahashi still seems to be processing the concept of the aforementioned ‘relationship’, but it is more puzzlement than malice, certainly.

“Wow. I never would’ve guessed that.”

“For good reason. Ooi was always very careful. It stayed strictly between us. I had no issues with it, since I was used to being secretive about these things. We were done with it pretty quickly, though. It just felt silly to keep risking so much for so little gain. On both of our ends. Christ, _anyway_.”

Shimura clears his throat, eager to move on to the next chronological subject. Once he realizes what that subject _is_ , however, his features noticeably fall before he can conjure up anything to stop them.

Before Takahashi can intervene, he murmurs, tone distant and ephemeral, “Some time after that, I met Hatori.”

Takahashi’s lips purse, head dipping in a slow bow. He’d already been informed of much of the impact Hatori had introduced to Shimura’s life, and had seen the aftereffects of it himself. One of his hands move to reassuringly clutch the other man’s own.

“It’s alright. I know. You don’t need to talk about him.”

Shimura smiles shallowly, lips tinged with remorse and melancholy. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It shouldn’t still affect me so much. Just thinking about him, I mean.”

“No. It’s a testament to _your_ character that it still does. Obviously, I hate that you feel so guilty and probably always will, since none of what happened was your fault, but I know better than to think that you or me or anybody could ever magically whisk those feelings away. I mean, from what you’ve told me, I think it’s safe to say that he was the love of your life. People don’t just… _get over_ losing that. Especially under the circumstances it all happened. I wish you never had to feel ashamed or guilty or whatever, but I understand why you do. And I don’t think it’s a bad thing on your end. This doesn’t… deter me, I guess? I think that’s what I’m trying to say. Just because you think it’s inappropriate or unflattering doesn’t mean I do, too. So… Try not to worry about it too much, okay? Okay.”

Takahashi swallows, administering a final squeeze to the other man’s hand before dropping it. Shimura is all but floored by the honesty and care embedded into his friend’s effective monologue, eyes wide and mouth dry. Both of them are noticeably flushed, Takahashi’s eyes settling blindly on the grooves in the table’s surface as Shimura’s own remain fixed to his face.

“Well… Th-That means a lot to me. Yes. That means a lot to me. More than you know, Eiichi. I’ll… keep it in mind. Certainly. Um. I think that’s all I have to tell you. It’s nothing remarkable.”

“That’s fine! That’s fine. I just wanted to hear what it was like for you. I wasn’t expecting your whole life story. You didn’t need to tell me anything in the first place, so I’m thankful you did.”

Takahashi smiles, but it does not meet his eyes. Before Shimura can comment, Takahashi is rising from the table, gathering each drained mug into his arms and consequently depositing them into the sink.

As he rinses them, he blurts, seemingly forming syntax as he goes, “I asked so I could get to know you better. There’s not really any other reason. I mean, I’ve already learned a lot about you, so I just wanted to get even more of the story. I don’t think _I’m_ gay or anything like that. I’ve never dated another man. Hell, I was married to a woman and had a child with her. I’m… pretty straight. My point is, I don’t have an ulterior motive.”

Shimura merely nods, settling to keep assumptions to himself: such things could be addressed at any point. If Takahashi was allotted time to digest and mull the topic over, then decided that he had additional questions, he would inevitably approach Shimura with them. That was the nature of their relationship – an eternal game of tugging and giving from both ends. He was unconcerned.

“I didn’t think you did. You know by now that I never would, either. Have an ulterior motive, that is.”

As Takahashi dumps the dirtied mugs and various other utensils into the dish washer, Shimura finds himself reflecting. Though he and Hatori had never officially dated ( the man was unyieldingly loyal to his wife, even if the passion in their marriage had dwindled down to scraps ), their relationship marked the peak of Shimura’s romantic capacity. Perhaps it was partly to do with the ‘forbidden’ nature of the entire affair, but he found that difficult to believe. For one reason or another, Hatori had ensnared his heart, and his feelings had grown and festered unlike ever before. Any amount of love or care Shimura held for his previous lovers absolutely paled in comparison.

Adjusting to the loss of such a driving force in his life was complicated and prone to relapse. Takahashi knew this well: he could no longer pretend to keep a comprehensible count of the nights he had been jarred from sleep only to find Shimura in the bathroom, crouched over the toilet and vomiting, tears and sweat streaking his skin. Having known Hatori’s corporate persona was an insufficient means of comparison, at its best. It was something that he could never properly understand, nor did he particularly wish to. He spent much of his time skirting around Hatori’s presence, anyway – the children’s books and poetry he knew Shimura kept in his nightstand’s drawer, the lone horrifically patterned tie tucked away beneath layers of socks, the handful of crafted ceramics decorating the house, the specific buzzwords and phrases he’d learned to avoid in conversation. The indications that Hatori had ever existed were admittedly scarce, but certainly omnipresent.

To say that Takahashi was incumbered by any of these reminders was inaccurate. Instead, he had a sort of _respect_ for them, born from the impact he’d observed of the man’s absence. The silence he rewarded Hatori’s memory was a serene and remorseful one, for he, too, had fallen short in his complacency when it had truly mattered. He chose not to dwell on such things, but Shimura did. That simple fact happened to be one of the most significant differences between them, but they had long ago reached a sort of unspoken compromise. Takahashi would watch what he chose to say, and Shimura would continue to work slowly toward genuine functionality again. Both were satisfied.

Which was why, when Takahashi admitted in the later months that he was indeed questioning his sexuality, Shimura first offered the talismans various degrees of apology, then chose to be satisfied with the knowledge that this is what Hatori would have wanted for him, conscience be damned. There was no way of knowing what would become of their relationship if Takahashi did discover that he was comfortable in the presence of men, but whatever came of the situation, Shimura wanted to get better. For himself, for Takahashi, and, perhaps most of all, for Hatori, whose poet’s heart would have delighted in the budding seeds of hope planted within his lungs.

**Author's Note:**

> al actually let me choose the prompt on this one, so for better or for worse, this is what i got. happy ( late ) valentine's day and happy eighteenth ! welcome to manhood. i love you.
> 
> thank you for reading this silly thing :)


End file.
